


'fuck you' flowers

by singularitory



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Drabble, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, mark hates his job oops, rated teen for some mild swearing, thanks maggot for the prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singularitory/pseuds/singularitory
Summary: Mark works at his mother's flower shop (involuntarily). One day, a pissed off boy comes in demanding for some flowers.





	'fuck you' flowers

Mark shifted on the uncomfortable stool, nearly knocking the damned thing over in the process. Why his mother thought putting a fucking stool at the register was a good idea was completely and utterly beyond him. He eventually decided to just stand and promptly tried to ignore the loud _thwack_ that sounded as the stool clattered to the ground. He rolled his eyes ever so dramatically.

He usually was not one for the dramatics. But after being forced to run his mother’s flower shop for an entire week, he didn’t care much. Plus, being a teenager justifies teenage angst. Only perk, really.

Mark swiftly picked up the stool, quickly righting it once more, and strode over to the next batches of roses he had recently cut. His mother was away with the paperwork side of the business, so it was left to Mark to do the hard work. Meaning cutting all the flowers, preparing them, tending to any customers, and pretty much everything else.

It was maddening.

Mark was pissed. And tired of ancient grandmothers walking in looking for some ugly ass flower that Mark unfortunately knew of. He inwardly cursed his knowledge of flowers. It only made sense that he was well-educated, considering that his mother had been running the florist shop for nearly twelve years. But that didn’t change the ever-growing resentment Mark felt toward the shop, his mother, and the ridiculous flowers.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts when a boy around his own age tumbled through the door, looking exhausted and furious. His dark hair had an obvious bed head appearance yet curled gently around the tips of his ears. His skin was tanned, almost resembling caramel, and flushed with anger. The stud on his nose glinted brightly in the sunlight.

_Admittedly_ , Mark thought, _he’s pretty._

The boy clambered up to register, glaring at Mark the entire way. Mark quickly shuffled back behind the register, fighting the urge to kick the goddamn stool over. The boy reached into his army jacket pocket, pulled out a crumpled twenty, and slammed it on the table so hard that it shook.

“How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?” he demanded. Mark blinked. Blinked again. The boy’s face remained animated in annoyance. Mark couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. The boy scowled.

“Okay listen here,”- he speedily glanced at the sloppy name tag plastered to Mark’s slightly disgusting shirt- “Mark.” He over exaggerated the syllables in Mark’s name with a horrible fake American accent. Now, it was Mark’s turn to scowl.

Mark intervened before the boy could resume, “It’s just Mark, not that hard.” The boy’s expression diminished into something almost amused at being corrected. He nodded once, twice, three times, and Mark felt his eye begin to twitch slightly.

“So can you help me?”

Mark waited, dumbfounded for a second, before remembering the boy was actually a legitimate customer who voluntarily came to the shop. “Uh, yeah.”

He breezed past the counter, over to where a mountain of yellow flowers resided; the boy was on his heels. “I’d recommend yellow carnations, which represent distain or disappointment. Or,” he gestured to a group of odd purple photosynthesis automatons, “aconites represent warning and hatred. Also, petunias symbolize resentment and anger; they’re in the back.”

The boy nodded once, twice, three times, and Mark fought the urge to cringe. “Sounds good,” he finally drawled. Mark stared at him blankly. “I’ll take a bouquet now, please. I don’t have all day.”

Mark barely suppressed an eye roll but managed a tight smile before beginning to prepare the ‘fuck you’ flowers.

 

-

 

A few minutes of both time and patience passed before the bouquet was ready. Surprisingly, it wasn’t visually hideous. Just the raw, meaningful bit was hideous. Mark thought this to be a wonderful metaphor of his fucking life.

The boy clicked his tongue. Mark hadn’t realized he was staring intently at the flowers until then. He flushed slightly and headed back towards the register where the boy was still waiting. Mark handed him the bouquet and cringed when his hand snagged slightly on the other boy’s fingers. The boy shrugged, and Mark tried to pretend like he didn’t care, as he sought out change for the twenty the boy had rather violently slammed on the table. Mark passed along the change, watched as the customer signed the check, and as the boy turned to leave, Mark realized he forgot to ask something important.

“Who’re they for?”

The boy turned around slowly and grinned lazily. “My soon to be ex-boyfriend. He’s a real dick.”

Mark laughed and watched the boy walk through the florist shop door. He picked up the check and scrawled messily along the back was a number with the name Donghyuck underlined once, twice, three times.

Maybe working at the flower shop wasn’t so bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: i actually wrote this a while ago w original characters but decided to edit it and make it markhyuck. so if any pronouns are wrong, that's why


End file.
